


take what you need

by PenelopeJadewing



Series: fictober 2018 [5]
Category: Naruto, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aftermath, Angst and Tragedy, Gen, Heavy Angst, Itachi becomes a Villain, Mental Instability, Somebody Save Itachi, Uchiha Itachi-centric, and a good son, but now look what he's done, he just wants to be a good big brother, help him, mentions of Sasuke and All Might, parallels of the Uchiha Massacre, please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeJadewing/pseuds/PenelopeJadewing
Summary: With the memory of blood on his hands and death at his feet, Itachi faces his employers one last time, for final judgment. All he can think about is his baby brother, and the way his father looked when he killed him.Stay strong, stay calm, he tells himself as his soul fractures. He's a Villain now.





	take what you need

The chairmen of the National Hero Commission are, understandably, hesitant to let Uchiha Itachi return home, even if only to retrieve a small number of personal effects.

After all. He did just murder twelve people, including his own father.

The thirteen-year-old’s mind isn’t sure how to process that fact, so it doesn’t and instead simply skims over it. He barely has time to think about it at all, and then his attention is flitting back over Chairmen Shimura Danzo’s age-weathered face, the coldness of his single eye, the scar on his chin. What a terrifying man… Itachi can’t see a glimmer of warmth in that face. Not a sliver of humanity.

He shrinks, primal instinct still roused from the blood he only just washed off his arms bidding him submit to the superior presence before him. The commanding officer who holds with no defiance, the defender of the law who issued the order for Uchiha Fugaku’s death at the hands of his trusted prodigy. For a second, Itachi can’t breathe. He swallows the weakness down; _stay strong, stay calm. Stay strong, stay calm._ It has become his mantra. Sometimes he can chant it meditatively. Other times, it races through his mind at rapid fire, erratic and desperate. That’s a recent change.

What’s wrong with him, Itachi wonders. His mind keeps threatening to swallow him whole. Why can’t he think?

“It’s far too risky,” Shimura is saying sternly to one of the other chairmen, Sarutobi Hiruzen. The latter is arguing for lenience on Itachi’s behalf, citing the crime they just had Itachi commit as the very reason why they should make things easier from here. Danzo testifies the opposite. “The media is already crawling all over this incident like the roaches they are. The Uchiha house is under watch for this very thing. If he is caught-”

“If he is caught, then perhaps this endeavor was cursed from the start,” Sarutobi counters, his voice much gentler. Actually, everything about him is softer than Shimura, a stunning comparison, like light to dark.

They appear to be the same age, but life has obviously taught them different lessons. Everything Shimura says makes Itachi want to… he doesn’t know what. Bad things, all bad things. Things that make his insides coil up and twist and lurch, like he wants to vomit but it’s never been easy to make him sick. He’s only vomited three times in his life, and it was all within the week he had the stomach flu back in elementary school. Back when Mother used to make him onigiri and dango and Father would walk him to school and tell him about the Heroes he’d met—

“Itachi-kun… are you all right?” It’s Sarutobi. He’s talking to him. Itachi raises his head, looks across the length meeting table, the stony faces of the chairmen, except for the man addressing him. He feels so far away… Wait, why would Sarutobi-sama be asking that? He’s been quiet, he’s been good, been strong, hasn’t attracted attention to himself—

Wait, is he crying?

How did he miss that?

Itachi sucks in a sharp breath and swipes hastily at his face with his bare hands. Has to clean his face, has to be strong. He can’t feel anything right now. He doesn’t deserve to. The tears are hot on his fingers. Like blood. Salty too. He realizes too late that he’s sniffling, struggling again to keep his breath even, calm,  _strong_.

Once he’s finished, he answers the chairmen with a nod—perhaps too incessant, too nervous, too  _weak_ , because Sarutobi just frowns intently and turns that frown on his fellow executive. Shimura, as usual, doesn’t react. His face remains like chiseled granite.

“Danzo, please,” Sarutobi mutters, as if Itachi can’t hear. They seem terribly familiar with one another. Like close friends. Like Itachi had been with Shisui before he—

“Have a heart,” is the last thing Sarutobi says to Shimura before silence reigns. What an odd thing to say, Itachi realizes. He’s never thought about it before, but it’s almost like the phrase is implying that it’s a choice. To have a heart.

Is it? He had always believed people had one whether they liked it or not. That they can’t escape their own humanity, even if they try, like Villains do. Villains are still human, no matter how they behave. Itachi always believed there was a part of someone that could always be saved, if only they would let it be.

But if that’s true… if that’s true, why does his chest feel so hollow?

He’s a Villain now, isn’t he?

A killer.

A murderer.

_Father… No, stop thinking. Don’t. Don’t do it._

He thinks of Father’s peaceful face as he slept. He thinks of the gun in his hand. He thinks of how easy it was to pull the trigger. How hard it was… Easy or hard? What was it? What if it was hard? What if it was easy? What did it mean either way?

_Father is dead. That’s what it means._

Itachi chokes on his breath and tries not to make a sound.

_Stay strong, stay calm._

_…What will Sasuke think?_

Against his will, his throat constricts and his next breath rattles, wrung and ragged through his lungs. He raises a trembling hand to clap over his mouth to silence himself. He can’t make a sound… not here. Not with these men. If they think he’s weak, think he’s broken, who knows what they’ll do with him now that they don’t need him anymore. Now that he’s done what they wanted. Now that he’s tasted blood.

Sasuke will think he’s a Villain. He’ll grow up without a father who loved him more than he knew… a father who was so proud of him. Itachi robbed him… he robbed him. Robbed him, robbed him blind,  _thief, murderer_ … Sasuke will hate him.

Or worse. Worse, Sasuke will discover what happened. What really happened. He’ll learn the truth somehow, someway, because Sasuke’s headstrong and brave and determined and if he wanted to learn what happened yesterday, he wouldn’t stop until he did and then he’d  _know_. He’d know and he’d hate the Commission, he’d hate All Might, he’d hate world, and the happy little boy who believed in Heroes so wholeheartedly would be gone and who knows what would come after that. Itachi couldn’t watch that happen. He couldn’t. Not after everything he’s already done. He’s already taken so much; Heroes like All Might will be all Sasuke has left now…

So let Sasuke hate him. That’s the only alternative. It’s all he can do… it’s what’s necessary. Even if just the thought seizes the air in Itachi’s lungs and he thinks he might suffocate then and there. The edges of his vision are darkened, blurred. He sucks in a breath and then another. Strong, calm, strong, calm, _get a grip, you’re a killer now, you can’t feel things._

This is why he has to go home. He has to make sure… make sure Sasuke hates him, not anything or anyone else.

Just him. The Villain.

Maybe one day, Sasuke will be a Pro Hero himself. Then he can pronounce judgment on Itachi and take him down, just like in all the news stories and movies. Then people will cheer for Sasuke and call him a great Hero, a harbinger of Justice. And Itachi will get no more than he deserves for his sins.

Yes. This must happen.

Quite mysteriously, his tears abate. Breath comes a little easier.

He realizes Shimura-sama is speaking.

“Take what you need,” he says, voice like ice. Almost as cold as his eyes. Merciless. “Only what you need and nothing more. And let no one catch you, do you understand?”

Itachi nods once. Like a soldier. Like a servant. Good, reliable, obedient.

“Once you are finished, you are to make your way to the Tatooin Train Station, where our contact will meet you and escort you to the safe house we have prepared for you. Do you have any questions?”

Itachi shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Good.”

With a wave of Shimura’s hand, it is done. Itachi is dismissed from their presence. He bows once and leaves. He exits the meeting room, and as soon as the door latches shut behind him, a wave of dizziness makes him stumble against the wall. He reaches out, catches himself, and forces himself to breathe. Breathe, in and out, in and out again. Strong, calm. He has something he needs to do now. He has to see Sasuke, just one more time.

But he can’t seem to make his feet move. He stands rooted, swaying, steadied only by his hand on the wall and his will not to fall. He can’t. He can’t be weak, not now…

He just killed his father. He should be stronger than this.

His chest aches. He reaches up, grips the front of his shirt, like that will make the pain stop but of course it doesn’t. His lungs tremble through each breath.

‘Take what you need,’ Shimura-sama had said. What does Itachi need? What does he really need…

A heart, maybe.


End file.
